I'll be honest with you. If it wasn't for Wes, this site would have been a lot less interesting to read these past few months. (That is, supposing you do not have Alzheimer's or a severe case of OCD, a symptom of which requires you to view the same pictures and posts over and over again.) Without him, you might not even know that I just turned thirty, or that our niece is outrageously cute. You wouldn't even know--god forbid--how much Asa's hair and PJ collection have grown.
And it's because one person can't be the sole documentarian of a family (and still hold down a full time job) that you still don't know that we spent two whole days in June mudding and sanding the drywall on our kitchen ceiling. Or that Asa has fallen into obsession with Elmo (aka MEEEEELMOOOOO!). Or that Wes got caught stealing peaches from the neighbor's tree. Or that we bought a new (to us) car.
Well, no more, Internet! Why shouldn't you be aware of all things Rogers? I've realized that, by not posting, I have deprived you of the very thing that could be giving your life meaning! Or at least giving you something to read over your morning cup of coffee. So here it is, the declaration, the likes of which I am normally inclined to make while being less inclined to follow through with--I hereby promise to post more. Definitely. For sure. When I can. When I have the time. When I feel like it.
Let's get started, shall we?
Next up on the Rogers agenda: Labor Day. Otherwise known as Wes's Christmas break. Wes has made a movement in this family to officially excommunicate Christmas and christen Labor Day the mother of all holidays. This is what most of Labor Day weekend looks like out in Bath County where we celebrate it:
But then there are parts of it that look like this (note teeny-weeny Asa there in the middle):
And then there are other parts that occur that are such rare moments in time that they haven't ever been documented and probably won't ever be, and shouldn't ever be.
Our labor day is the holiday you wish all holidays could be. Three days of good friends, lots of food, lots of beer, afternoon rambles, pick-up games of kickball and basketball, late night philosophy, and five-second snippets of kid life as the brood of little people ebbs and flows from the festivities. Oh, and then there are the bright and early morning jams, the lazy buzzed afternoon jams, and the no-holds-barred late-night rabble-rousing jams.
It comes but once a year, and--I know-- it sounds like a Christmas-level of hype to live up to. But herein lies the absolute beauty of the thing: each year is different. Different people show up, different rambling paths are forged, different lawn games represented, different food adventures embarked upon. There are few expectations of adults and children alike, and everyone shares a little of the responsibility (of meals, clean-up, beer-runs) so that no one has to do too much. And it's never the same twice, so there is never too much to live up to.
Yep, the perfect holiday. And it's ours in just a few short days.
